Hidden in the Plainest of Sights
by ZoeOfBakerSt
Summary: As far as Evangeline is aware, she is just an ordinary 17 year old college student. She has never wanted anything more than to feel like she belongs. Perhaps when a certain Consulting Detective gets involved in her life, she may realise that she never shall have a shot at fitting in, for she is far from an ordinary girl. She is a weapon.


**Author's note:**

**Hello there, fellow BBC Sherlock fans. This story is just a tiny slice of my vast imagination and, since I am quite new to writing, I hope that I have done it justice. Please just read it and enjoy it and possibly leave a review at the end? It would help to know what I could improve and whether or not people are actually enjoying what I write.**

**Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock. Obvvvvviously.**

**. . .**

Mycroft Holmes sat in his office, fingertips taptaptapping on the mahogany desk in front of him.

There were things going wrong and he did not like it. Plans were unravelling and secrets were being whispered through alleyways like ghosts on the wind. A backup system that had been kept under lock and key was beginning to come into the light. Rumours and theories were floating about all over the place and it was all getting a little too much for the older Holmes' mind to keep at ease.

TapTap. TapTap. TapTap.

Mycroft very rarely smoked but nor was he ever under quite this much stress. The smell of the fumes dancing around him now calmed that engine of a mind and allowed him to concentrate on solutions rather than the problems.

Many actions could be taken and most were likely to end in disaster. Choices, choices, choices.

He tapped the tip of the cigarette, causing tiny grey specks to fall into the barely used ash-tray on the side of his desk and plucked his mobile from his suit pocket in one swift movement.

More tapping. Typing. This was it; the decision. The lives on the thread of this text Mycroft Holmes was about to send out.

[Oружие. Baker St.]

The Government official stared at the words and pondered over this risky move yet again. The advantages and disadvantages and possible scenarios went whirring through his brain at top speed.

And then he pressed send.

For once, Mycroft was not at all certain about his decision. This could either go exactly as he and the other officials had planned it all those years ago or... England and its citizens may very well be doomed.

. . .

Evangeline Joyce was taking her usual walk home from college when it happened.

As far as she and anyone else around her were aware, she was a completely ordinary young girl. Seventeen years of age. Not stunningly beautiful, but certainly pretty. A mass of faint, brown freckles dotted her their way across her pale face, merging together in some places and actually making her skin look darker than it really was. Her eyes were an extremely light mixture of blue and grey, a colour to make a person mentally stagger back if they were to bump into her in the street. With small, dainty lips and a button nose, she often got mistaken for being younger than she truly was, especially in photographs when one cannot see her slim, 5 ft 8 figure that made up for the baby face. Long, waves of mahogany hair framed said face and suitably finished off the young girl's look to liken to a wood nymph of some sorts.

Surely if she were given a daisy chain to drape around her head and a mixture of flowing, green robes to wear, she would look like she had just walked straight out of a fairy tale.

However, this was not a fairy tale. This was real life. This was _Evangeline's_ life. And it was about to be turned upside-down.

Now, Evangeline completely and utterly hated her name. What the hell kind of a name is 'Evangeline' supposed to be?! It was so... out of the norm. Made her stand out. It didn't help, of course, that being the adopted child she was; she never got to question her real parent's on their frankly ridiculous choice. When a teacher would ever call her name out in registration, her fellow students would snigger, making her freckled-face turn a light shade of pink. Hence, if she ever introduced herself to anyone, she would simply call herself 'Eva'.

_Eva_... really did not like to stand out from the crowd. At all. In fact, she was more than happy with her small group of friends at her college, blending into the background. Attention was never passed over to her. She liked it that way. She could get on with her life without too much teenage drama and/or troubles with her parents.

That was soon to change.

London was always such a busy place, at all times. One of those cities that never sleeps. People and traffic were everywhere. Eva listened to the sound if it all going by, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her denim jacket. It was the sound of life. It was a sound that she had grown up with and it tended to soothe her mind in times of panic.

So lost was that tall, young girl in the hustle and bustle around her that... she simply did not see the man following her.

He blended in with the crowds; nobody would even look twice at him. People did not tend to see a problem when they did not want to. Just an average, suited-up businessman with dusty-blonde hair and hands in pockets. This man had been watching Eva since she had walked out of the doors of her college. Walking a fair few paces behind her, so as to go unnoticed, he never let the brunette out of his sight.

Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

If anyone had been looking at the man's expression at that point, they might have likened it to a tiger, about to pounce on its prey. And that is exactly what he did.

All it took was a pickup in walking pace and a brush of Eva's denim covered arm.

"Oh, sorry!" she blurted out on instinct before a firm hand was clasped tightly around her mouth and she was being dragged, dragged, dragged down the nearest darkened alleyway.

She completely panicked, as anyone would. This felt like the beginning of some terrible horror movie and she was slap bang in the middle of it. Arms and legs were flailing against the steel-like grip around her body, trying so desperately to make her screams heard through her abductor's hand.

That's when she felt it. Just a tiny pinch in the side of her neck. A pinprick of pain. And then it was as if something was sucking every ounce of energy from her body. The drug now flowing through Eva's bloodstream was causing her attempts at a struggle all the more feeble. She grasped tightly onto conscious, wishing with all her might that someone would just _see _what was happening.

But... people do not tend to see a problem if they don't _want _to. And so Evangeline struggled on until the blackness of oblivion consumed her and she was utterly helpless.

**. . .**

**Well, thank you for reading. No Sherlock in this chapter, I'm afraid. Sorry to deprive you of his gloriousness but he shall definitely be in the next chapter. **

**In case you didn't know, 'Oружие' is Russian for 'Weapon'... It shall become apparent why later on. Staaaay tuned! And please do drop me a review to let me know your thoughts, it may just inspire me to update quicker... XD**

**~ ZoeOfBakerSt**


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